


Interstellar Inertia

by Sanctioned_Chaos



Category: Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Feels, F/M, M/M, Peter Parker & Tony Stark - Freeform, Slow Burn, So much angst, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, briefly hinted ironstrange, hinted at Kraglin/Yondu bc i love gay space parents, honestly this is going to hurt you and i'm a little apologetic but not really, i love and hate that tag simply bc it should already be obvious, it will depress you, let the reader beware, like i said this is not what you think, not team Cap friendly, really tho can it be considered a slow burn if there's barely a burn at all, some canon divergence but not a lot, some of them are just mentions anyway, there's more characters but i don't wanna list them all, this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 05:10:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15041453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctioned_Chaos/pseuds/Sanctioned_Chaos
Summary: Tony Stark comes into the world the morning of May 29, 1970, with constellations scattered across his shoulder blades.StarkQuill Soulmate AU





	Interstellar Inertia

**Author's Note:**

> This is easily the longest one-shot I've ever done and it took a whopping six to seven days to write just bc my productivity hours are apparently only btwn 3-7 am(but i mean its summer so it's probably ok that my sleep schedule's completely jacked)
> 
>  
> 
> Beta-ed by the lovely 비

Tony Stark comes into the world the morning of May 29, 1970, with constellations scattered across his shoulder blades.  
  
They're small like he is and, at first, the doctors mistake the soul-identifying marks for freckles. Maria points out their uncanny resemblance to the connect-the-dot star clusters that fill the dark of space and from then on, Tony is regarded as the child with the night sky strewn along the smooth planes of his upper back.  
  
"My darling Antonio, _la mia piccola luce stellare_ . Yours will be a love that will put to shame even the most brilliant of stars." She whispers to him every night, faithfully, like a bedtime story before he sleeps.  
  
But Tony is born a Stark and while his mother dreams of a love tied to the heavens, his father's ambitions are fanned and goaded. Because Tony is born a year after the moon launch, a project Stark Industries spearheaded, Howard takes his son's mark as less of a romantic notion, and more an assurance of continued industrial success. His father teaches him that there are expectations to be met, not kinship and love to be found. Tony doesn't grow up with silly stories in his head of fate (as much as Maria would like him to) but with the belief that the markings on his back are something to live up to.  
  
He doesn't learn to forget them until after Howard. He doesn't learn to forget his mother's words until after he sees her body in the morgue and again at the funeral. Tony tries his damndest to erase his father's ingrained standards with booze and sex and every drug known to man. Maria's predictions become nothing more than the fanciful notions of a woman with an alcoholic husband who was not, and could never be, her soulmate. He puts a star in his chest to match the ones on his back but it’s something that he does out of necessity and not opportunity. He loved and still loves his mother, but Tony forgets her words because they don't make sense and they _hurt_.

  
Consequently, he doesn't remember them until he's carrying a nuke into space and thinking about all the people he's leaving behind.  
  
Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, JARVIS and the bots. His nameless soulmate.  
  
Tony feels his arms drop gradually, lungs collapsing in on him even as he watches the explosion that decimates the Chitauri get closer and closer. He contemplates, with what thought is left in him, that maybe neither of his parents were entirely right in their interpretation of the spattering of dots on his back. Perhaps fate had always intended Anthony Edward Stark to die in the vastness of space, surrounded by death in the pursuit of preserving life. Perhaps his mark was meant as a forewarning that no matter what he did, this is where he would always end up.  
  
Bruised, bloodied, and beaten; entirely alone with only the stars as witness.  
  
He closes his eyes, accepts death, and falls.

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
Peter Quill jumps to his feet, his mother's outstretched hand still haunting him years after the fact. There's a soft grumble from the bed in response to his sudden movement, and he thinks hard to remember what system, what planet, what hotel he's in right now.  
  
"Hey, Star-Lord. Come back to bed,” a distinctly male voice, slightly higher than his own, calls from beneath rumpled sheets.  
  
"Yeah, handsome, it's not even sun-up yet." A female, this time.  
  
He thought he remembered sex with some couple from the closest bar where he'd parked the Milano, but he hadn't remembered if that was last night or two nights before. Might've been both.  
  
"Sorry, Mr. and Mrs., but a Ravager's work doesn't really follow the sun," Peter bullshits, rooting around the room to find his effects.  
  
It isn't a complete lie, technically he was supposed to meet Yondu about a job hours ago.  
  
There's a little light coming through ratty windows, courtesy of the bevvy of neon signs characteristic of the metropolis outside. It helps him to find his shiny leather jacket but not his shirt.  
  
"We made assumptions about our skill in bed that I see now must have been misplaced. Our mistake for thinking you were done with your ravaging for the night,” the lady drawls from the bed, reddish-gold and luminescent eyes finding his in the mostly-dark.  
  
Peter spares her an amused chuckle and reaches for the familiar glint of metal underneath his pillow.  
  
"I've yet to meet anyone that quite managed to accomplish that, darlin'." He doesn't mean it as an insult but he's not in the mood for more lies tonight.  
  
The thirty-one year-old figures he's not really hurting any feelings, considering the sprightly laugh that answers him back.  
  
"When the day comes that you meet your match, Star-Lord, I hope we find each other again,” the man calls out coyly, very much awake, his arms wrapped around his wife's bare waist.  
  
"If that day ever comes," Peter mumbles in response, hopping on one foot to put on his boots.  
  
He does a quick feel-check to make sure he has everything he needs, nodding to himself minutely in the dark. The ravager might not have his shirt on but the Milano was fairly close by and he's never been ashamed of his body to begin with: he could go half-naked for a block or two. Besides, his jacket covers the only part of him he prefers not to be on public display.  
  
Some secrets were his own to keep.  
  
"That mark of yours," the wife calls out just as Peter's grasping the door handle. "It's quite the ambitious one wouldn't you say?"  
  
He doesn't know whether to wince or smirk. He looks back at the couple in the bed and settles, rather stiffly, for the latter.  
  
"I ain't called 'Star-Lord' for nothin', after all. Gotta have a name to match my fate."  
  
Peter doesn't stay to see the look on their faces, opening the door and walking briskly out. The memory of sex does nothing to make him forget about his mother's outstretched hand and Peter Quill runs from his years of regret, only stopping to breathe once he's in his ship and out of orbit.

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
Tony wakes up to a loud roar and a ground view of what remains of New York.  
  
"Oh god, please tell me no one tried to kiss me." He says reflexively, heart beating a million miles a minute.  
  
The noise in his head is louder than usual and his body aches with an intensity to match his experience in Afghanistan. Steve smiles reassuringly over him but it doesn’t do much to calm him down. Tony knows he needs Pepper or Rhodey, even seeing Happy would be great right about now. He couldn't even hear JARVIS anymore.  
  
Anthony Stark wants to bang his head down on the cement and die, having already made peace with his world ending. He settles for false bravado instead.  
  
"Hey, how do you guys feel about Shawarma? Cause I saw a nice Shawarma place down the block. I don't know what it is but I want to try it."  
  
The good captain tells him they have one more job to do and, internally, Tony knows there's so much more to it than that- _the damages alone, not even taking into account the unavoidable casualties and press_ \- but he thinks of Loki and concludes, with the five of them, dealing with him will probably be the least taxing thing he has to do for a while.  
  
"Okay, but Shawarma after?" He responds, biting back a groan at the feeling of his body shifting.  
  
Nobody actually answers but he takes that as a yes, and Tony's attention is suddenly taken by the presence of a large hand being offered to him. Thor smiles down at him with all the pride and adrenaline of a warrior prince after a victorious fight and Tony envies the guy’s enhanced state. The billionaire is fairly certain he has bruises on his bruises at this point.  
  
"I'd take you up on that offer, Point Break, but I might pass out again if I even try to get up right now." It hurts him to admit it out loud, especially in front of everyone standing.  
  
Thankfully, Thor only chuckles at him a little before telling him he fought bravely and that his injuries are nothing to be ashamed of. It doesn't do much to change Tony's mind but it's the thought that counts. The demi-god bends down to lift him up by the shoulders, surprisingly gentle and Tony breathes a low sigh of relief.

He knows it's a mistake as soon as he does it, lungs suddenly protesting against what he's sure are at least a few broken ribs.  
  
Thor is gracious enough not to remark on the quick intake of breath he does on instinct, and the taller man changes his grip on Tony to where it least hurts. It isn't much considering he hurts literally everywhere, but he'll take small mercies where he can get them. His anxiety starts eating away at him again as soon as they begin their trek to Stark Tower, but the fact that steadfast Natasha is also leaning on Steve, soothes his worries, at least for the moment.  
  
Bruce is still as green as before but Tony isn't really concerned about the Big Guy as some people say he should be, even as close as he's hovering to the billionaire right now. Thor ambles them along as swiftly yet gently as he can and Tony makes a mental note to buy the guy a lifetime supply of Pop Tarts later (he heard from Jane how much the demi-god liked the stuff). After a while though, the weight of being helped along rests too heavily on Tony's mind and he insists on walking by himself. Thor and Hulk look like they want to say something against that conjecture but Clint pipes up from a little behind them.  
  
"Oh come on, guys. Stark's a big boy, let him handle himself."  
  
Tony bites down on his tongue and smiles good-heartedly.  
  
"Exactly, you two. You can let go of me now, Tropic Thunder."  
  
Thor hesitates for a good moment, blonde brows furrowed in worry, before relaxing at the determined look Tony settles on him. Muscled arms ease from around him slowly and Tony fights hard against the urge in his legs to topple over.  
  
"See, the billionaire can stand on his own two feet." Clint remarks before continuing around them, following Steve and a limping Natasha.  
  
The Big Guy grumbles from his left and Tony forces a reassuring smile on his face despite being acutely aware of how his feet feel weighed down by lead.  
  
_It's not quite correct to call me Iron Man when the suit's made of Titanium Alloy, but whatever the press wants I guess,_ he remembers telling JARVIS.  
  
Titanium Alloy feels just as heavy to lift, though.  
  
Thor still looks like he wants to say something but Stark Tower and his estranged brother are literally within their sights and the thunder god practically vibrates with the desire to move on. Frankly, Tony's surprised he hasn't flown ahead of them yet. Then again, he has been holding the guy back for a while, so he decides to do them all a favor, walking resolutely forward. It hurts like hell but, Tony supposes, dealing with pain has always been something he's good at.

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
"You're twelve hours late, kid." Kraglin remarks teasingly as Peter steps foot onboard.  
  
"Yeah well, it was a good twelve hours, Krag. Fun while it lasted."

 

“Considering you ain’t wearin’ a shirt… I figure I know how you spent it.” He smirks and the Terran merely shrugs his shoulders.  
  
Peter stops to appraise the older Ravager. It's been a good six months since he's seen him last but thankfully not much had changed. Kraglin holds his hand open in the space between them and Peter grasps it tightly, accepting the half-hug readily.  
  
"Good to see you, Pete."  
  
The Terran nods his head and returns the compliment.  
  
"How's Grumpy?"  
  
Kraglin smirks, all gapped teeth and deep wrinkles.  
  
"Grumpy."

 

“Why am I not surprised?” Peter rolls his eyes, following the older man when he begins walking deeper into the ship.

 

It's been a while, but definitely nowhere near long enough for him to forget these halls any time soon. Kraglin takes a series of sharp turns, gait both hurried and lethargic. The lieutenant probably doesn't want to keep Yondu waiting but neither of them care enough to be rushing just yet.

 

“How’s going solo treating you, Pete?”

 

“It does a helluva lot for my pride to not have to report back to Grumpy everyday, if that's what you're asking,” he answers back, lagging a little to stare at the old space of his room before falling into step with the other.

 

“Figured. And the jobs? Any money troubles?”

 

“You guys would've eaten me a long time ago if I didn't learn enough, and learn fast, about what it takes to be a good Ravager. At the very least, the part about picking a good job and seeing it through.”

 

Kraglin nods his head at that, satisfied with his answer, and there's a few short moments of companionable silence between the two men before they enter the bridge.

 

Yondu himself has his back to them, sitting resolutely in his chair and crouching forwards to eye the space in front of them. Endless stars spread out in endless directions and Peter is reminded briefly of the constellations on his back. He shakes his head to clear those thoughts from his mind, coughing forcefully to draw the lead Ravager’s attention.

 

“What's with the cough, boy? Finally contract a sickness from sex with that A’askvarian?”

 

Peter grimaces, gritting his teeth distastefully at the amused looks from the crew around them. Yondu leans to the right of his chair, finally turning his head to throw him a grating smile.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you people I never had sex with her? I charmed her away from her desk sure, but that was all without losing one article of clothing, old man.”

 

“You sucked face with her though, kid,” Yondu chuckles back and Peter remembers why he left in the first place.

 

The Captain of the Eclector is an insufferable prick.

 

“I ain’t sick, Yondu. Now last I checked, the only reason I'm here is ‘cause you called about a job.”

 

He doesn't expect the Ravager’s face to turn grim at that and a quick look at Kraglin shows he’s just as confused as Peter is. The rest of the present crew are shifting now though, murmuring to each other and the thirty-one year-old resists the urge to roll his eyes in anticipation.

 

“We _had_ a job.”

 

Peter's eyebrow rises at that.

 

“Beg pardon? Had?”

 

“Clean your ears out, kid. Yes, we _had_ a job. Now, we have a better one.”

 

Something in Yondu’s tone doesn't sit right with him, and Peter beckons him to elaborate.

 

“It’s salvage. The bounty is 100 thousand credits. More, depending on just how much we grab.”

 

Instinctively, Peter rests a nervous hand on his gun. He’s not really expecting treachery here, maybe some swindling but none of the physical violence kind. Mostly he does it out of habit, there's something fishy about the offer and anything that doesn't sit right in his gut always has Peter reaching for his weapon. It's how he’s survived this long. Besides, what kind of salvage job is worth 100 thousand credits? He questions as much to Yondu.

 

The older Ravager looks at him long and hard– looking for what, Peter doesn't know. Either way, he seems to reach an internal conclusion and turns his captain’s chair to face the Terran, fully.

 

“It’s the Chitauri.”

 

Hair-trigger having been pulled inside him, Peter draws the gun out, pointing it at the blue alien. He can hear weapons being charged around him and realises Yondu’s replaced some of his crew again. The guys that Peter had grown up around would have taken his reaction for what it was, a reaction, rather than a threat. His gut eases slightly at the sight of Kraglin rolling his eyes and barking out orders to stand down.

 

“You’re out of your mind, Blue. Since when were we stupid enough to steal from Thanos’s Army?”

 

Yondu doesn't even blink, just sits back in his chair instead.

 

“Like I told you, Skinny, clear out your ears. It's a salvage job, the most we’re stealing from is the dead.”

 

“Oh yeah? What does that even mean, you old geezer?!” Peter flails the gun around, pointing this way and that carelessly despite the safety being off.

 

As if Yondu would really bat an eye at losing any of the greenhorns he’s surrounded himself with this time; he never cared before. Said Ravager finally blinks at him, long and slow, before opening his mouth and dropping his second bomb within the past ten minutes.

 

“It means they're all gone. Every single wardog, ship, and Leviathan. There's nothing left but scraps.”

 

Peter blinks in answer.

 

Huh.

 

He’ll probably ask more later but, by the look of the men around him, he might have done enough testing nerves for today.

 

So someone wiped out Thanos’s Army of Chitauri, what a story that would be for whoever owned up to it. Nevertheless, it wasn't a Ravager’s business to care about the politics of a job unless there was immediate harm for them involved. The Mad Titan was probably intrigued, but the Chitauri were only a mere fraction of the true numbers he carried with him; he wouldn't be enraged enough to concern himself with a few space pirates rooting around for spare parts sold to the highest bidder. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting to the salvage first.

 

He holsters his gun.

 

“Well, what are we waiting for, Old Man?”

  
  


 

 

 

 

A year later and Tony discovers he’d healed even less from New York than he’d imagined.

 

It's really bad actually, bad enough that instead of being ‘Iron Man with or without the suit’, he builds more armor to convince himself that's what he is. To convince himself he’s strong. Safe. He’s neither of those things.

 

Tony tries and he tries hard to keep some semblance of his life before nearly dying in space, but it's so _hard_ . Him and Rhodey haven't had a real conversation not pertaining to the government and supers since- well since before he can remember. Everything's fuzzy nowadays. The panic attacks make everything a mess of hypersensitivity, the world around him hot and cold all at once ~~like he’d felt in his armor~~ but always blurred in that ‘I-can-see-too-much-all-at-once’ sort of way ~~the stars are so clear why are they so clear I never wanted to be _this_ close to them~~. Even Pepper, lovely and loving Pepper, he begins to shut out.

 

Then he has a panic attack at a restaurant in front of Rhodey and people ~~other people oh God why are there so many people so many families to protect~~ and he knows his facade is done for. He very nearly blasts Pepper in his sleep for god’s sake and he’s acutely aware that it's his death knell.

 

She walks out on him in the night and the armor stares back, cold and unfeeling, empty behind the faceplate. Tony muses on how he can feel more comfort from wrought metal and intricate wiring, than a warm body beside him. ~~In his head, he’s all wrong, and he’s sorry Pepper, but he can't unsee it. He can't unsee what's waiting for everyone out there.~~

 

It makes him want to question every aspiring or successful astronaut, how could you go willingly to face that void? _Eagerly_?

 

He's probably a hypocrite because, admittedly, that had been him once. Why wouldn't a genius be intrigued by the notion of the unknown? But the last time was too close for comfort and Tony thinks he could be done with Space if it would just be done with him. The stars track fire along his shoulder blades.

 

Before he knows it, there's a missile hitting the patio and all he can think of is: _save Pepper_. Tony’s been fine with the notion of dying for a while, and he considers letting the rubble of his own Malibu home bury him, but then he remembers Happy. Good old Happy, forehead of security, lying unconscious in a hospital bed and he gets so angry despite the bone-deep exhaustion.

 

Wonderfully, uncomprehendingly intelligent JARVIS saves him from drowning, but he falls unconscious in a ~~coffin~~ shield of his own creation and then he’s waking up in the snow. J’s gone, the suit being damaged beyond repair in the middle of the forest, and Tony pleads with him to wake up even though he knows he can't. He’s tired of being alone. Still, Tony rubs his hands together and lugs several pounds of metal through the bracing cold. He steals a poncho from a Native American mannequin and he calls Pepper- because the least he can do is apologize, tell her where he is and not to worry. He can't really feel his fingers but then the panic attacks usually achieved the same effect before, so he’s not really all that worried right now.

 

He meets Harley Keener, potato-gun extraordinaire, and- before Tony even thinks to demand a sandwich- he’s already built this kid his own DUM-E inside his head.

 

He’ll make him orange, kids can never have enough bright things right? It's dreary enough here in Rose Hill, Tennessee and goodness knows Harley deserves something bright after having to deal with all of Tony’s morbid thoughts and rapidly failing lungs. Did he mention he had a panic attack in front of the kid?

 

Did he also mention he almost got both of them- but especially Harley- killed? It's a good thing he’d had to deal with his own bullies before, too.

 

Extremis is extremely testy but he could've told you that, even as inebriated as he first was when he met Maya ~~and Yinsen~~.

 

Rhodey thinks War Machine Roxx, though, so there’s that. On the downside, he has another panic attack in front of- or rather in hearing of- the kid.

 

But like Harley says, he’s a mechanic, so panic attack aside, Tony Stark shoves on. He manages to find an eccentric english actor masquerading as a dangerous terrorist, escape re-captivity, and save the crew of Air Force 1 in one day.  

 

Maya’s dead, though, and Killian has Pepper under Extremis and Tony just- one of these days- wishes he could do something right so stuff like this wouldn't happen in the first place. ~~But innocent people always die around Tony Stark, it's practically a clause in the contractual source code of the Universe.~~

 

Anyway, he saves the President and Pepper ~~not before dropping her, though, seriously Tony you really can't do anything right~~. He gets his Rhodey back and Rhodey finally gets his suit back.

 

Tony gives up his.

 

He loves Pepper, right? And besides, he is Iron Man, with or without the suit. ~~It would've been nice to keep at least a few though.~~

 

Deep down, he’s still as afraid as ever- perhaps more so now that he doesn't have his safety nets. But like we established earlier, Tony Stark’s been ready to die for a while. No matter what happens, from here on out, he lets himself fall.

 

The star in his chest comes out, because he can choose to do that now, and the night sky on his back burns through it all.

  
  
  


 

 

 

Reality’s coming apart at the seams.

 

Tony leaves it to Thor to deal with.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

SHIELD turns out to be Hydra.

 

Tony wonders why Steve doesn't call.

 

He builds to bury his concern.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Despite all his years of tireless effort, the name ‘Star-Lord' is just not catching. Peter huffs at the thought as the Milano speeds away from the barren wasteland that is Morag.

 

He’s reminded of the fact that he took last night’s lay back to his ship and then Yondu’s calling him, grinding out several curses through yellowed teeth, and Peter tells him to fuck off in not so many words. He drops the red lady off at the nearest civilized planet, apologizing briefly because that _was_ some pretty reckless driving he exposed her to in only her underwear and not enough sleep. She's sweet but forgetful and he remembers her name only once- to tell her goodbye and best of luck- before jetting away to his buyer.

 

The guy’s a stooge as soon as he mentions Ronan and Peter’s left in the street with a gray, metallic orb- bountyless and, frankly, insulted in front of a pretty girl.

 

She's green. He’d be an idiot not to notice. Apparently, he is an idiot though, because her brown eyes distract him from seeing through her flirting as an attempt to steal his bounty from him.

 

Curse beautiful women and their wiles.

 

Internally, Peter doesn't find himself hating her all that much. She’s fierce, clearly capable, and he’s never faulted a woman for being assertive and knowing what she wants. But green lady packs a mean punch and he’s not really the type of guy that's into that on the first date. Before long, there's a raccoon and a sentient tree involved and Peter’s very confused and his fair share of agitated. This orb was becoming more trouble than it seemed to be worth. Then again, if the emerald enchantress wanted it so badly, maybe it was worth more than he’d previously thought.

 

The fight stops on his end when he feels several volts of electricity course through his body from a point on his back. His stars burn and Peter goes limp from the pain. He figures it wasn't that long of a blackout when he registers the raccoon yelling profanities at the Nova Corps and firm hands wrapping around his body, lifting him up. His muscles protest but he doesn't get much out word-wise until one of the guys holding onto him starts talking.

 

They both smile briefly, recognizing each other.

 

“Hey, if it isn't Star-Prince.”

 

“It’s Star-Lord,” Peter immediately grimaces, disappointed yet again.

 

“Sorry, Star-Lord. I picked this guy up a while back for petty theft. He's got a code name.”

 

“Come on, man. It's a- it's an outlaw name.”

 

“Relax, pal. It's cool to have a code name, it's not that weird.”

 

 _It shouldn't be weird at all_ , Peter grumbles internally. Star-Lord’s a cool name thank you very much. Anyone else who thinks otherwise can suffocate in space for all he cares.

 

His mother called him that, and as scared of thinking of her as he is, he’ll always remember it. Just like he’ll always remember the star clusters scattered haphazardly along his back.

 

Peter rolls his shoulders to ease out some of the tension in them, muscles stiff from the voltage earlier. He's placed inside a Nova Ship, handcuffs digging uncomfortably into his wrists, but he doesn't bother complaining this time round. They're not really meant for permanent wear, only being pulled out for use when transporting criminals. He and the others will be placed inside a viewing room soon, while the officials discuss where they're to serve punishment for their crimes.

 

He does the whole “middle finger i don't know what this machine does" trick that used to annoy Yondu all the time and spends the rest of the wait humming _Come And Get Your Love_ as audibly and annoyingly as he can.

 

Someone, somewhere, decides a well-guarded hole in space is the best place for them and Peter’s a little concerned about how he’ll get himself out of this one until he sees a guard fingering his Walkman.

 

Oh, hell no.

 

He loses this fight but he doesn't forget it, even under the orange spray of disinfectant. Earlier, they stripped him of his jacket, then his prison garbs, and now his shoulders are out for public display. Peter clenches his teeth.

 

They push him out when they're done, rough hands pressing against his back and he shoves the offending appendages away from his skin. He doesn't let anyone touch his marks, not even during sex. All of his partners know to keep their hands either high on his neck or on whatever surface they're being held against.

 

Bright orange and half-naked, Peter Quill seethes.

 

The raccoon walks in and he’s momentarily taken out of his own, very violent, musings by the amalgam of metal sticking into and out of the small, shivering frame. He considers what the purpose of it was. Just another someone testing a theory, creating a curiosity for their own amusement?

 

He looks away before the raccoon can see him ogling and he does feel a little bad because it wasn't his business or his right to ogle in the first place.

 

Peter sees the green lady again when they're being urged into the cafeteria. He hears the jeering before they even walk in. That's a lot of different aliens gunning for her head.

 

She’s Gamora, apparently. The favored daughter of Thanos, the Mad Titan. Quietly, inside his own head, Peter finds their situation laughable.

 

_I stole from your daddy a year or so back._

 

He doubts she knows or cares, but he still finds it funny, somehow.

 

There's a big blue hand slithering up his cheek now and Peter doesn't get the chance to choke out “you're really not my type” before Groot has his- _if his arms were branches did that make his fingers twigs_ \- appendages, up the guy’s nasal cavity.

 

“This here's our booty!” Rocket declares to a surprisingly, very silent cafeteria.

 

He bites down an amused smirk and an “I don't bottom,” managing a look of composed indifference instead. He's not one to interrupt a guy mid-monologue unless he really doesn't like him.

 

“If you want to get to him, you go through us. Or- more accurately- _we go through you_.” Peter doesn't quite like Rocket yet, but he could be convinced.

 

The blue alien gets a broken nose and probably some bad nightmares about barbaric foliage tonight, and Peter walks away unbothered.

 

“I'm with them,” he adds on for extra effect, pointing at the back of a dramatically exiting Rocket.

 

Gamora isn’t lucky enough to get the same treatment. She makes it to her cell, hounded by taunts and threats and Peter doesn't think she’ll sleep tonight either.

 

He likes her, though, so he makes up his mind to keep on the lookout for her well-being.

 

The stars on his back pulse once, a dull-throb against the flesh at his shoulder blades.

 

He wonders if she could be his other half.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Thor has his fingers around Tony’s neck and the genius fights to keep the bile down, flashbacks of Afghanistan and Obie and Killian replaying themselves unbidden behind his eyelids. The situation only gets worse from there.

 

It's Tony’s mistake. He promises, Steve, he _knows_ that.

 

Ultron came out of a desire to protect the Earth from fears it seemed only Tony had. He was needed but Tony was rushing. The witch played alphabet soup with his mind and he became negligent to the careful process he usually always takes during the beginning stages of creating a new AI.

 

Tony’s mistake isn't thinking Ultron was a good idea in the first place. His mistake is not paying closer attention to his budding child and foregoing care for immediate readiness. Maximoff makes his paranoia rise to new heights- a fact he wasn't aware could even happen- and Tony fights every instinct in him to pay closer attention to his work. Before everything else, Anthony Stark is a craftsmen. He should know better.

 

_There are no strings on me._

 

The words make him shiver every time he thinks of them. When it's quiet, and Tony is by himself, he apologizes to his mangled creation. He apologizes for failing his child and letting him spiral down the path that makes him truly believe extinction is the only answer to the world’s problems.

 

They meet the Maximoffs and it's another nail on Tony’s cross but, like the others that came before, he lets it happen. He may not have delivered the bomb that took their parents but he still designed the schematics for it. Obie might have sold it but Tony was the one that gave him stuff to sell in the first place. He knows that.

 

Bruce gets set off and really, Tony’s never been afraid of the Big Guy harming him before, but there's a scarlet glint in his green eyes and Tony tries his damndest to keep him from killing anyone- even if it means risking himself to do so. Neither of them would forgive themselves if people died.

 

Then JARVIS is gone and there's no going back from this one.

 

He's proud of what he, Helen, Bruce, and even Ultron, have created because Vision is, frankly, a masterpiece of technology and primordial magic. Mjolnir even deems him worthy. The only problem is he speaks with J’s voice, and the constant reminder of what he’s lost pokes at all of Tony’s most sensitive hurts.

 

He doesn't really have time to think about it, though. Sokovia’s rising higher and higher into the sky and Tony needs to think fast to achieve the least amount of casualties. If he plays this wrong, the entire European continent will feel the impact of the runaway state crashing back down to Earth. The older Maximoff twin- _his name is Pietro_ , Tony makes an effort to remember- places himself in the line of fire to save Clint and there goes another person Iron Man has failed to save. The red in his ledger grows deeper in color every time a life he could have saved is lost, and sometimes it hurts his head trying to remember every name, face, and family– but he remembers them nonetheless.

 

Scarlet Witch’s anguish explodes from her in a flurry of red and Tony flinches before he can stop himself. He's not within any of the Avengers’ line of sight, though, and he makes sure to keep it that way, forcing the suit to dive underneath the rapidly falling country. His repulsors fire on maximum and Tony relays orders to Thor, counting the seconds carefully in his head.

 

The clock reaches zero and he tells Thor as much, Iron Man firing a uni-beam at the same time the God of Thunder releases a powerful burst of lightning into the heart of the machine keeping Sokovia together. Hundreds of pounds of debris make their speedy descent to the surface and Tony hopes with everything in him that it is enough.

 

The world falls apart around him and he barely swerves in time to avoid part of a building coming down on top of him. Tony could die here- caught by a lucky piece of rubble- fall into the water below and drown. FRIDAY wouldn't even be able to do anything about it. He loves his baby girl but she's no JARVIS. In comparison to his longtime companion’s databanks of carefully encouraged learning, her decision-making capabilities and creativity were still infantile, infinitesimal.

 

Still, because the Universe isn't done with him yet apparently, Tony makes it out alive and he does the one thing he can do in this situation.

 

He retires the suit.

 

Though, he doesn't do it to pacify the insecurities of someone he dearly loves, this time. No, this time Tony Stark decides to be _just Tony Stark_ because he can't keep flying around in a red and gold suit pretending to be a hero anymore. Cap was right. He'd never be a hero. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to make up for his mistakes. Sokovia was a mess that had been a long time coming, albeit maybe not exactly how he’d imagined, and it served as a reminder of his countless sins.

 

Iron Man kills twice the number of people he saves.

 

Tony Stark throws himself into relief efforts and tries to ignore the constant hounding of Secretary Ross, who hasn't let up since Tony talked to him about letting Bruce join the initiative. But the genius can feel himself coming apart at the seams and it's beginning to show in his personal life. He and Pep are rockier than ever and his concern for their relationship grows exponentially every day. The forty-four year-old is aware he's a hot mess– he'd warned Pepper as much about two years back, and despite his efforts, he isn't getting any better.

 

He wants to. _God_ , does he want to, Pep, but nothing helps anymore. He's basically running on coffee at this point, bloodstream practically brimming with the stuff. He doesn't eat or sleep. FRIDAY tries to sneak him sorely-needed carbs and protein but nothing ever stays down. It gets bad enough that his baby girl, bless her heart she’s _learning_ , actually calls in Helen to interfere. His heart goes out to the doctor, so he lies to get her off his case and away from the pathetic sight of his ungroomed beard and stained sweatpants. She narrows her eyes at him when he tells her he’ll take better care of himself, and he’s almost certain she’s going to bury her black stilettos into his carpet and insist, but then her pager goes off and it's the Avengers all too familiar frequency. ~~Someone/someones are probably injured and Tony’s sorry but he’s just glad it isn’t him this time.~~

 

He tells her they need her more than he does. Helen says she doesn't believe that but Tony does, and he smiles genuinely at her as she rushes out. He makes sure the funding for her research and facilities, both in Seoul and uptown, are in good shape and lets FRIDAY convince him to keep her around. He manages to eat a whole sandwich the next day. It still doesn't stay down.

 

The night sky on his back tingles with warmth and it’s the only thing about him that feels good, anymore. He takes it as a good sign that his soul mate is being all the happy he can't be. He pushes on.

 

Tony Stark hears about a new Super right in his backyard, and sets to work on building the kid- _jesus they get younger and younger_ \- a new suit. Can't have Peter Parker doing his friendly neighborhood work in a ratty old hoody and gently-modified goggles, now can we?

 

He thinks a lot about what he’s lost these days. He has FRIDAY jot down ideas about where Bruce could have went. His science bro kind of just left him out to dry with Ultron’s creation and everything but Tony doesn't blame him. He’d have gotten out as fast as he could have too, if he wasn't Tony Stark and didn't know how badly they needed a globalized protection detail that was still far more reliable than the meager Avengers.

 

The Wakandans are drafting something that's been on his radar for a while and Tony decides to give it a look.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

“Someone forgot to water Groot today.”

 

Peter turns around in the pilot’s seat at the sound of Gamora’s voice. His eyebrows furrow in confusion.

 

“What?”

 

She takes a seat on the chair across from his, reclining into the material with her feet up and if it wasn't her, Peter would have kicked up a fuss about shoe prints on the Milano.

 

“Rocket’s throwing a tantrum and won’t let anyone come near them until the little guy’s healthy again.”

 

“How bad was it?”

 

Gamora peers over at him.

 

“He was looking a little gray.”

 

“That’s probably not good for a sentient tree, right? His bark’s always been beige before.” Peter replies, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

 

“It shouldn't be too worrying but I think we should let Rocket take care of him for a while. I trust him to nurse the sapling back to full health.”

 

He nods at that but frowns lightly.

 

“So I guess I'm on pilot duty for another couple hours?”

 

“I am more than ready to take shifts with you, Peter. You need your sleep.”

 

The thirty-three year-old shakes his head.

 

“This Ion Storm’s messing with our jump capabilities and I don't much like the look of the asteroid belt we’ll be coming up on soon. Better if I keep on it.”

 

Gamora’s quiet for several seconds and if they weren't as close as they were, he would have been worried that he’d insulted her. His statement wasn't meant to be derogatory, though, and neither was it intended to imply he didn't trust her. Objectively, they were both aware he was the better pilot out of the two of them, and it wouldn't do to interrupt his concentration.

 

“Do Terrans not require periodical trips to the bathroom?”

 

Still, objective reasoning aside, Gamora was not one for letting her quarry go easily.

 

“I can hold it.”

 

“So then I suppose you will not mind if I play relaxing water sounds to drown out this storm?”

 

Oh, now that was playing dirty.

 

“Gamora-"

 

“Peter.” Her voice sounds from right beside him and he _just_ manages to stop from spasming, in time.

 

Wouldn't want the Milano veering off into the nearest planet.

 

There’s a hand on his back now, resting gently on the top of his shoulder blades. Peter doesn’t even flinch.

 

“Get some rest. Please.”

 

He slowly eases their speed down until the Milano reaches a full stop, sessile in the middle of a raging space storm. Peter looks up at her, calloused hands coming off the controls to rest on darkly-clothed hips. She peers down at him, gently, waiting for him to respond. He stares at her a little longer, letting himself get lost in the depths of her eyes and he could have sworn there were stars in there. Gamora might not have constellations on her shoulder blades but she held galaxies in her irises and, somehow, that was enough.

 

“Okay.”

 

She smiles tenderly, bending forwards to lay a kiss on his brow and then his lips, before taking his place when he stands up to return the favor.

 

“I love you.” He whispers.

 

“I know.”

 

Peter breaks the moment with a snort.

 

“So what, I'm Leia and you're Han Solo?”

 

She smirks knowingly.

 

“Didn't we settle that already?”

 

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he says, kissing her one last time on the cheek before walking away. “Be careful with my ship.”

 

Gamora hums in reply, settling in to do her promised duty. Peter’s stars feel cold on his shoulders. He doesn't think much of it.

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 **B** inarily **A** ugmented **R** etro **F** raming; He really needs to work on his acronyms. Tony isn't quite sure how he makes it through giving a room full of MIT students and staff a first class lesson on his mommy and daddy issues, but somehow, he does. Pepper’s name comes up on the teleprompter and he blinks, mouth falling closed for a split second. He recovers quickly enough, but the metaphorical blow to his gut still sends him reeling.

 

There's a distinct feeling of nausea crawling up his throat, making it hard for him to swallow, but he manages. He has to. He gets apologies on his way out and questions about the extent of the donation and Tony ignores both. It's not his place to answer and besides, a mistake is a mistake. It was his own fault for reacting.

 

To be absolutely honest, he doesn't quite remember how he gets home, but FRIDAY’s welcoming him back as if he never left and there's about a thousand and one emails waiting for his perusal. Most of them are from Ross, a good bit are from the World Security Council, and a few from King T'chaka himself– personal inquiries. Tony sees to those first. The King of Wakanda is to make the first formal address on the topic of the Accords within a couple days and, because of how closely Tony’s been watching their progression, the genius and the king are in close contact.

 

The Accords themselves are certainly far from perfect, leaning uncomfortably heavy towards too much power to the Council, and it's the problem of what they'll be able to amend later that he and T’chaka have been paying such close attention to. Wakanda’s outlook on the mandates are more unique than those of the other countries, specifically because of a certain black cat they have and Tony really isn't supposed to know about that but of course he does. The first time he brings it up to T’chaka in private, he’d had to physically restrain himself from chuckling out loud at how rigid Prince T’challa’s form had become. The lone Dora Milaje in the room with them had openly bristled at his bluntness but, surprisingly, King T’chaka had merely laughed. That had been the first good day he’d had in a while, the two of them managing to make actual progress in the formation of the Accords and Tony had gotten the rare opportunity to talk to the man at the head of, what the billionaire was quickly learning, a country rooted in secrecy of the technological and intellectual sort.

 

It was all rather refreshing and there was a twinkle behind that man’s eye that Tony decided he liked.

 

He takes the news of the king’s death with a deep, forlorn sigh, not thirty-six hours from his presentation at MIT. Tony, himself, watches the security footage of Prince T’challa running to cover his unsuspecting father and he feels the young man’s anguish as if it were his own, even without the footage to show it. The forty-five year-old clenches his fists, meticulously puts on one of his best suits, and books the quickest flight he can to Bucharest. He has a mess to clean up.

 

Natasha is somber when he arrives, frustration clear in her eyes at this whole situation and the fact that they have to deal with it because god knows no one else will. He feels for her, and goes to say as much, but then they're bringing Barnes in and Steve looks like he has more than a few things to say about this whole operation.

 

 _It's not my operation, Cap,_ he wants to say. There's a look of exhaustion in Barnes’ eyes as he’s being ushered away, and Tony gets the distinct feeling that something isn't right. He stores the information away for later.

 

Ross is pissed, Steve is pissed, Wilson’s giving him the stink eye, and it's about all Tony can do to keep his head above water. T’challa spares him a passing glance as he walks away and the billionaire doesn't even know where to begin deciphering that look. It doesn't help that he really doesn't have the time, either. Tony fixes his already immaculate tie and gets to work.

 

He actually thinks he’s gotten Steve to see this from the point of view of 117 nations and consider signing, until Wanda gets brought up. The blonde shuts him down immediately and Tony wonders, privately, why the captain even brought her into the field if she’s the child he claims she is. Tony knows she’s… underdeveloped in that head of hers and is he still a little bitter about the easy acceptance of her into the team after she mind-raped a good portion of them? Hell yeah he is, but his bias aside, he contemplates the guilt Steve says she feels and the responsibility she should take anyways but clearly had no intention of doing.

 

_It doesn't matter if it was an accident, it still happened and someone has to explain to those families why their loved ones won't be coming home._

 

He bites the words back because he knows Steve won't appreciate them and there's no point in incensing him further when Tony can practically _taste_ the captain’s disappointment in the room. He understands that he’s made a lot of mistakes. He understands that he’ll never be forgiven for a good lot of them- certainly he’ll never forgive himself- but it tires him to always be the one left naked on the altar, bearing the insults and accusations like weathering a storm unsheltered. Tony doesn't understand why he’s expected to bear the weight of Wanda’s fuckups, too.

 

 _I know I killed your parents but I didn't make you kill everyone else:_ more words he bites down.

 

The alarms are ringing and it takes him a few moments to realise they're ringing outside of his head for once. Barnes is out, triggered, and about and here's Tony without a suit. Sharon ~~hey cuz~~ leads Natasha and him towards the fight and Tony prays the lone repulsor he has is enough. Oddly enough, this is Tony’s first real look of the guy when he's like this and he wonders if Hydra’s Fist was ever contracted to kill him. Probably, most likely, but then this raises the question: why is he not dead yet _?_

 

Tony contemplates on how much awareness ‘Bucky' actually has and how deep the manipulation goes. Mainly, how deep does BARF have to go to reach the Brooklyn native beneath the layers of Hydra propaganda?

 

He doesn't dwell too long on the topic- can't- because the Winter Soldier has a gun in his hand not two feet from Tony and _wow that was way too close for comfort._

 

 _I would be dead if I didn't have my repulsor_.

 

The realization is enough to both frighten him and pump him up with adrenaline, limbs moving faster than he can almost comprehend as he attempts to block the soldier’s blows. He’s whacking the other man in the head with the part of the gun he has but it's a short-lived victory because Barnes hits him back with three times the force.

 

It's a hit strong enough to send him sprawling and keep him down, the artificial sternum he had put in after taking out the reactor, actually bending inside of his chest. His lungs struggle to draw in air at the feeling, shock and pain forcing him to stay on the floor as his body threatens a panic attack on him.

 

_Not now damn it._

 

He bites hard on the inside of his cheek to repress the urge and faintly, one sensation at a time, the world around him starts to come back. Tony can still hear a struggle happening nearby. A table breaks and he catches a glimpse of blonde hair- _please be alright please be alright_ \- followed by Natasha’s grunts and then a dark figure coming forward to force Barnes off the choking redhead. T’challa holds his own, managing to force the other man on the defensive, and Tony’s glad for it. Wakanda can’t afford to lose another monarch anytime soon and the younger man understands the importance of responsibility as his father did. Tony can't afford to lose a man of level-headed reasoning anytime soon, either.

 

Soon after that, Barnes is on the run and everything's a blur until Tony’s intentionally lowering himself to appeal to Ross in a conference room. If the Secretary gets his way, the most Steve and his best buddy will get is a second to say goodbye before an airstrike blows them to kingdom come. Natasha walks in and by the look in her eye, she understands the gist of everything that just happened and both of them sag with the realization that the mess has gotten exponentially harder to clean up than hours before. Everything they were trying to avoid is going to happen anyway and there's nothing they can do at this point but try and lessen the sentence.

 

She hints towards recruiting the prince and he feigns confusion- he’s sorry but he doesn't know who to trust at this point and besides, it isn't that major of an infraction against her. He thinks about another spider he knows in Queens and struggles to quiet his conscience.

 

Peter is earnest and surprised and a really good kid, and Tony hesitates multiple times, during the drive and the conversation, to bring him into this mess. He’s well aware they need numbers and heavy hitters but Peter is so young and still so innocent. It's when the teen brings up needing to save the little guy that Tony thinks he can settle with his conscience for a short bit, enough to get the question out. After all, that's what the Accords are for: protecting the civilians from the mistakes made by the heros. It exhausts Tony to think about how Steve still thinks he’s the little guy in all of this, the one who needs to plant himself like a tree- when he stopped being the little guy after Erskine’s formula, and when it was those without power (the people on the ground that had the most to lose) that were the ones saying “you move.”

 

_117 nations, Steve, please._

 

So he brings Peter to Germany, gives him the upgraded suit- no, not the IronSpider one, not quite yet- and calls on him to fight the man, the super soldier, he's apparently a big fan of. He sees Clint among the faces standing beside Steve and nearly screams out “Why would you come back when you were finally out?!” Tony makes a mental note to apologize to Laura and the kids later for Steve bringing the retired archer into this– for bringing a known husband and father into their mess. Then again, Tony brought a fifteen year-old, can he really say much?

 

Amidst the fighting, Iron Man catches a flash of Captain America dropping an airplane bridge on said fifteen year-old and he flinches so hard he nearly clips T’challa with a repulsor. Thankfully, the warrior prince doesn't notice the slip-up and Tony struggles to refocus because _Cap you weren't supposed to actually try and lay him out._

 

Then, Small Guy becomes Big Guy and Peter brings up Empire Strikes Back. It goes great for a while, until Spiderman is literally smacked out of the sky, and Tony doesn't stop himself from flying over and checking in on the teen, this time around. Peter protests when Tony tells him he’s out but the younger is apparently in enough pain to give up after a moment and the billionaire nearly shakes at the realisation. His conscience eats at him from the inside out.

 

It gets worse when Natasha switches sides and downs T’challa herself. Tony doesn't actually blame her all too much- he's been on the brunt end of Steve’s stubbornness enough times to understand all too well why- but then Rhodey’s falling out of the sky and _Iron Man isn't fast enough._ No one is fast enough and Tony can actually see the moment his best friend injures himself irreparably. Tony watches every second of their lives play behind his eyes and he’s hoping to all hope this isn't the last they see of James Rhodes.

 

 _Honeybear I need you to live for me okay,_ he thinks loud enough to try and communicate as much to his unconscious best friend. _I can't lose you, too._

 

Sam touches down, looking guiltier than Tony’s ever seen him, but the billionaire doesn't give two shits. He doesn't lash out, _can't_ with how much he’s trying to keep Rhodey alive through will alone, and when Happy arrives at the same time as the ambulances do (Tony would fly Honeybear to the nearest hospital but that would almost certainly make the damage worse) well, his personal driver and longtime friend looks angered enough to kill for the both of them.

 

Tony paces during and after the surgery, inquiring aloud about how something like this could happen. He doesn't expect Natasha to lash out at him the way she does. He’s worried about his brother for god's sake Nat, not cajoling his ‘enormous ego’. The ex-assassin (assuming it's still past tense) walks away from him, embittered and more on Steve’s side than ever before, but maybe that last part is also another misconception on his part. Maybe she’s been on Steve’s side this whole time and has just been playing Tony like a marionette on silken strings. He wouldn't be surprised. Nevertheless, Anthony Stark is exhausted with all of it and doesn't bother to stop her or correct her misplaced assumptions about where his priorities lie.

 

(You have to believe him when he says he really didn't think it could get any worse from there.)

 

He discovers it wasn't Barnes that bombed the UN and he counts the wins where he desperately can, even if the whole team hates him now.

 

_Better watch your back around this guy. He’ll break it._

 

It tears at his insides to hear that from Clint.

 

_I wasn't the one whose friend shattered my Rhodey’s._

 

He throws sarcasm and non-answers at Ross on the way out, changing into the suit because it's cold in Siberia and he doesn't plan on being at the mercy of Super Soldiers ever again.

 

Of course, he’s proven wrong on all accounts.

 

The other Winter Soldiers are dead long before they get there and Zemo points out the green in Steve’s eyes. Tony thinks if the psychologist was looking for flaws all this time, all he had to do was look at this whole mess and he’d find more than enough. Tony’s best friend is paralyzed for life, sue him for being bitter. Seriously, try it. It won't hold up in court, certainly not against his lawyers.

 

A video plays and Tony knows that road, those street lights, those _trees,_ and he has a feeling so rancid and horrible in his gut about what he’s about to witness- about what he’s about to find out- and he very nearly looks away. Only he can't because damn it all, _this is his mother_.

 

He feels the last of everything he has to give, break inside, and he wonders why Steve doesn't even flinch at the raw emotion that must be coming out of his eyes. Barnes shifts behind him, at least, a movement Tony actually _feels,_ that's how attuned he is to everything, right now.

 

“Did you know?”

 

“I wasn't sure.”

 

“Cut the shit, Rogers! Did. You. Know.”

 

The silence that answers him back is enough.

 

Tony’s world tears away until his vision is nothing but bleeding red and everything that follows is frenzied rage and pure instinct. Steve’s saying something again but Tony can't make out the words, doesn't even bother, because he doesn't care, because-

 

“He killed my mom.”

 

At one point, he gets Steve right smack in the line of fire for his repulsors and the anger claws at him to take the shot. Tony doesn't and, honestly, he doesn't know why. This man has been betraying his trust _for years_ and he still can’t blow his head off– despite having every opportunity. His hesitance costs him and, sure enough, the captain has him pinned to the ground, scrambling to try and escape the endless barrage of punches.

 

The star his father put on a red, white, and blue shield comes down at the one in Tony’s chest. His light goes out.

 

Anthony Stark is bone-tired, beaten, bloodied, and bruised: he is alone in this bunker as a stranger he once called friend drops his father’s gift, and walks away from him forever.

 

Siberia is cold and he is, once again, at the mercy of a Super Soldier.

 

The only stars that remain are the ones on his back, hidden underneath purpling skin, forgotten.

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

Peter’s pretty certain they all agree that the Sovereign are dicks. Then again, Rocket did steal their batteries and now the Milano’s a mess in the middle of a forest. His baby girl's parts are scattered all along the surface of this planet and, yeah, they have the technology to fix her, but it still makes him wince to see her take so much damage. In other news, his father shows up and offers to take them back to his planet.

 

Gamora kisses Groot’s cheek in goodbye, throwing a pointed look at her chained sister before joining them inside Ego’s ship.

 

Mantis seems like a sweet enough girl, but her empathic abilities are a little unsettling, especially after she openly announces his affections for Gamora in front of Drax. The gray-skinned alien guffaws loudly at the admission and Peter fumbles to salvage the situation. Everyone knows they have something going on but it's still a bit embarrassing to hear it ousted so abruptly. Gamora’s expression is unreadable and she herself, remains silent. Mantis reaches for her next and he isn't at all surprised at the outcome of her curiosity. Gamora doesn't exactly respond well to someone prying into her personal affairs. It was an invasion of privacy and they respected her enough to never ask too many questions, but Mantis doesn't know any better.

 

He doesn't expect her to turn back to him, an unreadable look in her large, black eyes– even as Drax exclaims for his turn with the empath.

 

“You… There are two of you?” Mantis phrases it like a question, a confused expression adorning her face. “Or not two of you… You are a half?”

 

“Huh?” Peter’s eyebrows furrow.

 

“He is certainly nowhere near the man I am,” Drax chortles out from in front of him, the gray alien slapping his thighs in amusement.

 

“You take that back!” he exclaims. “We can't all be freaky buff like you, Sasquatch.”

 

“I am not a Sasquatch! I am a warrior!”

 

Gamora puts a hand on Drax’s chest when he goes to get up, raising her voice to interrupt any violence before it happens.

 

“What do you mean, Mantis? Of course, Peter is a half. He’s half Terran, half Celestial.”

 

Mantis shakes her head lightly, laying a hand on the back of Peter’s own, slowly and carefully this time round. Her approach is cautious and deliberate, meant to convey that, should he not wish it, she would immediately back off. He appreciates the sentiment but would appreciate it more if she elaborated her earlier statement.

 

“He is two species in one body, yes… but he is also incomplete, on the inside.”

 

She moves her hand to rest lightly on his chest, pressing at his center gently.

 

“Here. Here there is something missing.”

 

“What do you mean?” He doesn't know who asks it, whether it's himself or one of the others, but someone poses the question on all their minds.

 

“I am an empath, I feel emotions. With Ego, I feel many feelings- pride, regret, longing. No matter which emotion is stronger, all of them together make a person feel full to my senses. Mayhaps it is not uncommon among other races but, with Peter, it feels as if… as if he is not-full.” Mantis’s face crumples with her frustration to explain.

 

“But I don't feel empty,” Peter pipes up, finding his will to speak.

 

“You are not empty, per say. But there is a wall there that you are not conscious of.” She turns her head up to look at him, imploring. “May I try to feel beyond it?”

 

“I mean, sure, last I checked I already dealt with my repression a while back.” He throws a glimpse at Gamora, the vision of her reaching out to him overlayed with his mother, replaying itself in a flash.

 

“I don't know why there would be a wall.”

 

Mantis doesn't answer him back, eyes trained on his chest again as a delicate hand pushes back against his sternum with slightly more force than before. Peter doesn't feel anything different but it's like a switch is pulled inside of the emerald-clad alien. There's moisture falling from her eyes in streams and the realization that she’s crying hits him like a truck.

 

“So cold. So sad. He is _terribly_ sad. Filled with pain. Why does it never end? Where is his happiness? There is only tragedy, suffering, _loss_ . _Why?_ ” Mantis pleads, distress clear as day on her face as her head shakes repeatedly, as if she’s trying to escape something.

 

“Why does he despair so profoundly? Who has done this to you? Why does your mourning never cease?”

 

Peter’s eyes widen at that, roughened hands flying to the rambling alien’s shoulders before he can stop them.

 

“Mourning? Why is he in mourning? Is he, okay?”

 

The last part is a stupid question and he knows it, but it's instinctual on Peter’s part. There's something unsettled inside of him, something rearing its ugly head as he feels his hackles rise. Why would his soulmate be in such pain? How could he have let it happen? The constellations on his shoulder blades practically scald the flesh of his back from how hot they are. How could he have written his soulmate off so easily?

 

“He feels a deep loss. He has suffered betrayal and exhibits symptoms of emotional exhaustion.” Mantis retracts her hand, pale fingers trembling, and she brings her other hand to hold it against her chest.

 

The pure anguish in her eyes as she stares back at him, claws at Peter deep in his gut. He almost asks her if she can show him exactly what she felt, but the young girl is terribly shaken and Peter doesn't want to put her through that again. Even if he is terribly curious.

 

“Are _you_ okay?” He holds her shivering form steady, the alien looking ready to tip over.

 

“I am… I am recovering,” she replies softly before standing up quickly. “Forgive me, it is almost time for my master to slumber. I must see to him.”

 

Mantis bows slightly as she leaves and Peter watches her go with wide eyes. Well, that was quite the way to drop some world-shattering news. He still had so many questions. He realizes after a moment, that he is not as alone in this room as he had forgotten, looking up to see a silent Gamora standing stiffly at the entryway. He goes to say something, right hand reaching out to her, but she shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts before fixing him with a fleeting look and disappearing into the hallway. Peter rises to follow her but by the time he exits the room she’s already disappeared, and if she’s booking it away from him that fast, it means she doesn't want to be followed.

 

He sighs, tired, hopelessly confused, and more than his fair share of conflicted. There's a sudden, obnoxious snore sounding from within the room and it startles Peter enough to make him look back. Sure enough, Drax reclines back on the cushy seating, sleeping away, unbothered by the goings on of the world. Peter supposes the muscled warrior had probably been asleep since Mantis read him for the second time. The thought comes as a relief; he’s glad for one less person witnessing the utter shit-parade that was.

 

His marks still burn at his back but the heat has died down, settling into a warm prickling instead of the blazing inferno of earlier. Peter probably sits there for a good hour, thinking of everything and nothing, trying desperately to come to terms with the life he had and the life he was effectively leaving behind. The soulmate he was leaving behind. The thirty-six year-old comes to the conclusion that there's too much going on right now, telling himself to avoid making any big decisions regarding his romantic life until he can settle the problems and questions he has about his paternal one.

 

It's all well and good until Gamora calls him out on his attachment to his father and his seeming detachment to his teammates- his family, as she says. He lashes out at her for the last bit because she of all people should know how long he’s been waiting for answers, but then she’s leaving again, and he doesn't have a single clue what he's doing. Ego explains why he had Yondu pick Peter up instead of doing so himself and Peter’s lashing out all over again, feeling uncomfortably like a sensitive nerve being poked over and over again.

 

“I had to watch her die!” he screams, heart breaking as he remembers the night he ran out of his mother’s hospital room.

 

Ego’s apologizing, begging for another chance, and Peter doesn't want to give him one but he also doesn't want to lose the one parent he has left by being stubborn. It’s an internal war that doesn't end until Ego says he has so much to teach him about his ancestry and abilities.

 

_At least, he’s trying to make up for all those years of being an absent father._

 

Still, _still,_ Peter doesn't want to forgive him, but then he’s making matter appear with his thoughts and the older man is beaming at him proudly and now they're playing catch like a normal father and son, and Peter _wants_. He wants so badly he forgets everything else. His father explains Expansion and Peter thinks it's beautiful because his head’s a little foggy and his eyes don't see much else except endless stars and then there's Earth? Ego’s talking some more and Peter agrees with what he says off-handedly. There's a flash of expressive brown eyes behind his mind's eye, followed by a bright smile and a laugh so beautiful it was like everything good in the Universe personified. He’s distracted and he knows it, eyebrows furrowing with his efforts to get a clearer picture instead of just an impression, but nothing's working and suddenly he’s remembering what else he’s losing in this whole mess, as well.

 

“My friends…” He trails off and Ego assures him they're above that sort of stuff and Peter’s agreeing with him again, why is he agreeing?

 

_Because he’s right, because you’ll be a God and Gods can always make new friends._

 

It sounds believable enough so Peter’s consciousness acquiesces. There's a small part at the back of his brain that says something's wrong with that- that they're more than just friends- but Ego’s talking again and the thought gets buried. It does raise the question, though–

 

“What about my mother? You said you loved my mother.” He feels his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and it's so foggy in his head, _why's it so foggy_?

 

“And that I did. My Riverlilly who knew all the words to every song that came over the radio. I returned to Earth three times and I knew if I returned a fourth, I’d never leave.”

 

He goes on to talk about how Peter’s mother would've made him lose the very purpose of his existence and Peter doesn't think that's much of an excuse but the fog’s still there and he’s not too sure about it anymore.

 

“It broke my heart to put that tumor in her head.”

 

The fog in his head clears so fast that Peter’s world feels like it's getting larger and smaller at the same time.

 

“What?” He asks again for confirmation.

 

“Now- now I know that sounds bad-"

 

His guns are out faster than he thinks he’s ever unholstered them before and Peter’s firing again and again without stopping. This man, Celestial or otherwise, murdered his mother in cold blood to keep from losing his own fragile sense of self. It's an understatement of massive proportions to say that Peter’s _pissed._

 

He stops after what feels like shot 14 but also 1 and Ego goes so far as to demand who Peter thinks he is. As if his reaction was completely unfounded and he had no right. Peter hates the fact that his mother ever associated herself with this disgusting excuse for a creature.

 

“You killed my mother!”

 

_I have every right you shit-head._

 

Ego- _god, with a name like that how did he not notice something before-_ goes right back to being indignant, and Peter almost can't see through the rage but he does turn to feel himself be impaled by tendrils of light.

 

He’s somewhere and nowhere but most importantly, he can feel the energy being drained out of him and used to power something, _everything_ , on too many planets to count. He thinks about the civilizations Ego is going to use him to devour– about Earth and soulmate he can't see but definitely felt– about the Guardians and Gamora– about his mother, who died loving a man who murdered her to soothe his own injured self-importance.

 

It's all that goes on in his head when he finally gets out, when he sees his real family again, and when he's kicking his sperm donor’s ass. He’s criminally happy for all of three seconds before he realizes what Yondu’s doing ~~dying~~ to save Peter and he’s losing the only father-figure that counts. Typical, for him to lose someone the moment he realizes how important they are to him.

 

Kraglin’s there to pick them up- _I'm so sorry I couldn't bring him back I'm so, so sorry-_ and they mourn him together. All Yondu’s ever wanted was a Ravager funeral and in the end, he gets it. Peter tries to think about how his dad got the last laugh in the end, even if his stupid blue head doesn’t know it. Peter hopes Yondu can be happy, wherever he is in death.

 

Nebula leaves, chasing after her self-appointed duty of killing Thanos, and Peter wraps his arms around Gamora as she sees her sister disappear into the stars. They need it, he thinks, both too vulnerable to be left alone to themselves. His decision to kiss her isn't one that comes lightly. He’s thought about a lot since Ego admitted to killing his mother, and Peter can't afford to lose more of his precious people. The only reason he ever hesitated was because Mantis brought up his suffering soulmate and he’s already decided that- as much as he feels like a despicable person for thinking it- he’s slightly more okay with losing a person he never had in the first place, much less knew, over losing his family.

 

His stars burn with an almost-anger but Peter resolutely ignores them. He’s made his decision. He doesn't know who his soulmate is and he hopes he never does. Peter’s heart can only take so much pain at once and he refuses to let another person into his life whose sorrow, and this is what the stories say, can break him even more than any other loss ever could. His mother and Yondu were enough pain to last him the rest of his life. Besides, he rationalizes, if his soulmate had survived this long with such sadness, Peter figures he's stronger than he’ll ever be. The other half of his soul can hold up without him.

 

Peter chooses to love Gamora and to love her with everything in him, half as much as he can possibly give or not. This is the life he chooses, not the one the Fates decided one day just because they could. He thinks, the only reason he ever believed in that stuff in the first place was because his mother was such a romantic. The thing is, Terrans are the only species he knows of to carry soul marks and Ego himself had practically admitted to faking his to match Meredith’s. So yeah, Peter doesn't believe in the stars on his skin anymore, because how could the Fates let someone as amazing as his mother die for her belief? He curses the constellations on his back and feels vindicated at the sight of the jagged scar marring the previously pristine picture. His father gave him something he could appreciate, after all.

 

Peter looks into the eyes of the woman he loves and decidedly ignores the protests of his marks. He’ll take a life with her any day over a life with a stranger he was tied to by mere happenstance.

 

Not like he’ll ever have any reason to go back to Earth, anyway.

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

Peter almost drowns and Tony is very much not okay. Peter almost has people die on his account and Tony admittedly shakes at the feeling of his conscience mocking him. Peter has bruises and cuts from his final fight with the Vulture and the only reason Tony knows is because Happy’s the one that picks the kids up and Happy doesn't keep anything from him. Peter needs his suit back- has earned the IronSpider one- because Tony can't let him come this close to death ever again ~~_buried under a building for god's sake_~~ , really his heart won't be able to take it. Peter says no to being an Avenger and it's one of the few times in his life, ever, that Tony has had someone reject what is essentially an all access pass to his time and money ~~all _they_ ever did was take and take~~ and frankly, it's refreshing. Peter decides to stay protecting the little guy and Tony trusts him to do that- trusts Spider-Man to do right by them- with such fervor it scares him.

 

Pepper comes in just as he’s left, confused to all hell as to where their supposed new Avenger’s gone, and Tony announces her and Happy’s engagement instead. They give him the side-eye (“It was supposed to stay private, Tony!”) but he can't help his wide smile at the sight of two of his most important people happy and healthy.

 

It ends up being a really good day.

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

Tony doesn't follow the yellow brick road- _what Pep it’s gray and cobblestone_ \- but he still manages to meet a wizard, anyway.

 

Bruce is back- _bless your green heart you little fucker_ \- and he’s hugging Tony like he's beyond happy to see him even though _you ditched me Big Guy_ . Strange is strange and not what Tony expected after all those stories along the affluent grapevine about the ex-neurosurgeon having been as big of a self-satisfied prick as Tony supposedly was. He shouldn't be surprised, considering the kinds of people that grapevine was composed of, but he is anyway. Pepper winks at him as he steps through the sorcerer’s portal- _jesus this is really his life_ \- and he has half a mind to tell her to hush up and butt out, only, that's exactly what he didn't do when he set her and Hap up and she’d surely hold his hypocrisy over him even after he was dead and buried.

 

The genius had already decided there was to be no attempts at flirting from his end when dealing with whatever business this was but then the sorcerers explain Infinity Stones and Bruce is talking about Thanos and every remaining somatic cell of amusement within him dies.

 

Tony stretches while he can; he has a feeling he won't have much time to later. Something like cloth slaps his ass and he’s turning, affronted, before silencing himself at Strange’s amused look. He really doesn't have the time, or stomach, to do this after the ‘alien invasion’ name drop. There are loud noises coming from outside and Tony’s really glad for that stretching now because Thanos’ Vanguard is here earlier than any of them planned and they've come with a vengeance. Strange winks at him after pulling off some spell that clears away the dust, and Tony manages to smirk despite having the worst feeling in his gut.

 

Bruce has difficulties bringing out the Big Guy, which means that's one less heavy hitter, and the billionaire thinks this is probably the worst possible time to be having performance issues. He taps twice at the reactor on his chest and Bleeding Edge forms at random parts on his body. By the time the faceplate comes around his head, Tony breathes a little easier in the familiar embrace of his best suit yet.

 

Bless nanotech.

 

The fight starts and Strange sends Bruce away from the worst of it. It doesn’t take long for Tony to meet up with the other man again though, after a particularly hard hit from Squidward’s constructs. He doesn't fall the way he wants, facing away from the enemy instead of towards them, and the genius braces himself to take another hit. It never comes. Tony looks up to hear Peter say his customary greeting, the young man sounding chipper and high-spirited as usual even whilst taking the weight and strength of an alien twice his height and five times his width.

 

Strange goes flying by a couple minutes later and Tony orders Peter after him. This alien is huge and there aren't many tall buildings for Spider-Man to use to his advantage in the middle of the park so he’d prefer the fifteen year-old to be back in the city and in his niche.

 

Before he knows it, the young superhero informs him about the flying donut taking Strange and Tony’s deploying 17A with hardly any delay. Despite his earlier warnings, he severely doubts Peter would have listened to him and let go of his quarry. Tony trusts his suits, and Peter’s excited response over the com-line about IronSpider’s interior smell only strengthens that faith.

 

“FRIDAY, take him home.”

 

There's an audible protest as his baby girl deploys the parachute but the forty-seven year-old doesn't listen. No way is he letting Peter into space, not after what it did to Tony himself, last time he was that close to the stars.

 

_He’s a fifteen year-old kid. He has absolutely no business leaving the atmosphere._

 

May would kill him and Tony would never forgive himself.

 

Nevertheless, the younger man apparently lives to give him heart attacks because of course he managed to cling to the giant spaceship like the giant, enhanced bug that he is.

 

“You can't be the friendly neighborhood SpiderMan if there is no neighborhood.”

 

Tony doesn't buy it and neither does Peter himself but they left Earth behind a while ago and not even Bleeding Edge can take that much exposure to space; Otherwise he’d have already sent it to take the webslinger back planet-side.

 

They save Strange with help from _Aliens_ and Peter’s obsession with pop culture; neither of them get a thank you but Tony wasn't expecting one from a man like Stephen. Still, they get into a fight about letting the flying space donut continue on to meet Thanos; he understands that Strange sees it as his duty to protect the Time Stone, but it's Tony’s duty to protect Earth and his loved ones. He doesn't lose the argument.

 

He thinks about Pepper’s distressed voice telling him to come back, and apologizes.

 

_I’ll be a little longer, Pep. Sorry. Try not to have Hap’s babies before I'm back._

 

Tony remembers the glow about her when they were running, the amused smile at the corner of her lips when he went on about wanting god-children. She bantered with him about the subject but he knew better; his favorite lady was expecting already. He throws a look at an idle Peter some feet away from him and pictures a rambunctious Harley alongside the teen.

 

 _For their futures_ , Tony thinks. _For all their futures._

 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, steeling himself for whatever lies ahead.

 

The genius doesn't expect to have to ground Peter just when they've managed to survive a crash-landing onto wherever Thanos is supposed to be. Then, the fifteen year-old’s warning them about something coming and a bright flash of light blinds all of them. Strange is going at it with some hulking gray mass and he vaguely hears Peter squeak something about eggs but Tony’s a little preoccupied with a flying, leather-clad spaceman to be distracted by other battles. There's a weird tingling sensation on his back as he chases the guy down and the forty-seven year-old writes it off as phantom pains from landing so violently earlier.

 

Spaceman gets his hands on Peter and Tony doesn't hesitate to materialize a very big gun with his nanotechnology. The tingling sensation has escalated into outright burning but he can't be bothered to deal with it right now; some stranger’s got his hands on Tony’s kid and he is decidedly not okay with that. The guy’s going on about some _Gamora_ and Tony really doesn't understand why his shoulders feel like they're being skinned with a hot iron at that, even with Peter possibly seconds from death in front of him.

 

“I'll do you one better. Who is Gamora?!” Tony questions loudly, hands fidgeting with the urge to _shoot first think later_.

 

Big Gray Mass is talking and Tony tunes him out in favor of listening to Stephen ask after Spaceman’s alliances.

 

“‘ _Who do I serve,’_ what am I supposed to say? Jesus?” Red Leather sasses back.

 

Tony is distinctly not feeling it.

 

“Okay, so you're from Earth.”

 

“I’m not from Earth. I'm from Missouri, ” the guy spits back and well, if Tony’s ever been good at anything, it's giving back just as much as he takes.

 

“Yeah, that's on Earth.”

 

 _Dipshit,_ he adds for emphasis.

 

Spaceman lets go of Peter soon enough and the billionaire finally gets a good breath of air in his lungs at watching the gun leave the fifteen year-old’s face. The pain on his upper-back moves slightly higher on his list of priorities now, but there are more important things to discuss so Tony does what he always does with excruciating pain and shoves on.

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

Peter doesn't like this guy. He doesn't know what it is per say, the obscene amount of pain his marks are causing him or the pressing issue of Gamora’s whereabouts, but he really, _really_ can't stand Mr. Suit of Armor. Offhandedly, he hears the Spider-Kid call him ‘Mr. Stark’ and it doesn't do any wonders on his opinion of the guy.

 

 _If I remember nothing else, it's that Starks are weapons-dealing scum_.

 

He conveniently forgets Ravagers are, too.

 

It doesn't get any better when all the guy seems to want to do is monopolize what should be Peter’s spot as team leader. He tries to do Stark a favor by telling him they don't do whatever it is that just came out of his mouth, and, when Spider-Kid asks, Mantis’s good-natured answer has Peter smirking fondly at her.

 

 _Kick names, take ass;_ she almost had it this time.

 

Stark blinks foolishly several times, head lolling up and down in what Peter reads as resignation, and there's a sick sense of satisfaction in his gut, even as his marks punish him for it by flaring up further. The guardian rolls his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the pain but Stark’s looking up at him again and the agony only worsens. He wants to say it's his stars reading his dislike for the man and translating it into pain for his constant reminder, but Peter doesn't need reminders to remember he doesn't like the guy and there's something tugging at the back of his head.

 

The two of them not-quite-but-almost yell at each other a few more times before Sorcerer Dude’s spasming and Stark goes running to his side. His marks seem to protest at that, feeling almost like they're calling out- reaching for something- but Peter really doesn't want to think about what that could mean anytime soon, so he perishes the thought and takes cautious steps towards Strange.

 

“You’re okay, you're alright,” Stark murmurs lowly, hands resting on the sorcerer’s shoulder and calf in what is meant to be a grounding gesture.

 

Peter doesn't like it for some reason, only barely managing to bite back his disdain.

 

“What is it, what did you see?”

 

The following discussion that ensues, short as it is, is definitely not sweet and does no wonders for team confidence. Nevertheless, they come up with a plan anyway, and, even though Peter still doesn't like the guy, he can at least admit that Stark isn't too bad a dude. He’s got the makings of a good superhero, Peter can say that much.

 

His stars still burn. He doesn't think about why.

  


 

 

 

 

 

Tony finally figures out why his shoulders hurt so much now. It's a wonderful time for revelations- busy as he is, trying to claw Thanos's gauntlet away from his hand- but even with Peter’s help, they don't make much headway. He _feels_ Quill step forward more than sees him. The billionaire could laugh, he really could, as the realisation- _the memory_ \- hits him. His mother’s words punch him in the gut.

 

 _Star-Lord, huh? It’s hilariously fitting_.

 

The soulmate he voluntarily forgot about some time back is quite literally standing in front of him, snarling menacingly in front of a purple alien three times his size. In any other situation, Tony might find it attractive. Thing is, the blue, mechanized girl is speaking up and Quill's got a frenzied look in his eye that doesn't sit right. Tony’s been around frenzied, _desperate_ , men enough times- seen it in the mirror enough times- to know intimately what's coming.

 

He thinks of all the things he could say to the other man: how he knows what it's like to lose someone you love, how he knows what it's like to be right there with their killer, how he knows- _down to his bones_ \- the urge to lash out and screw the consequences.

 

~~_I don't care. He killed my mom._ ~~

 

But Tony also knows he doesn't have the time to tell the dirty-blonde his life story, so he settles for desperation instead. He pleads- with everything in him and only just shy of doing so on his knees- for Quill to reconsider, to wait a few seconds more because _Pete almost has the gauntlet off damn it_. Even so, he knows his attempts are futile. This man barely knows him and he hasn't listened to Tony’s begging at this point, he's not likely to any time soon.

 

Tony recognizes the look in his soulmate’s wet eyes as deep, unabiding love and equally profound loss. Offhandedly, he thinks it really must be true that they're two halves of a whole soul, because that last part is definitely all him. He thinks of Quill’s Gamora, and how she’s lucky to be loved by someone so completely, bordering religiously.

 

Tony’s never been a religious man. He’s a man of numbers and results, science and hard facts. A man of metal. His beliefs are unforgiving and tethered to the tangible, the concrete. Quill’s punches dislodge Mantis from around Thanos’s head and Tony squares his shoulders.

 

It hurts, it hurts a lot going forward. Everyone goes down and Tony’s the only one still standing. He’s used to it. He tries again. Over and over again, he throws his body, his mind, his armor at Thanos, searching for some leeway, for an opening.

 

He draws blood.

 

A breath.

 

Thanos draws some of his in retaliation.

 

The weight of that moon the titan had thrown at him earlier, catches up, and Tony’s stumbling backwards at the feeling of his own blade sinking into his skin. Thanos throws him praises, ‘the man that single-handedly destroyed a fraction (even a small one) of his army and the first being to ever draw blood.’ Tony bites his cheek to keep the bile from rising up.

 

He doesn't know why Strange does it, why the sorcerer gives up his one duty to save a dying man like Tony; he just knows Thanos takes it and blinks away in a portal of blue. Tony’s world is one of gods and soldiers and sorcerers and titans but Tony is a man of metal, of anything he can hold in his hand and use to create something new, something better. Tony’s world is one of gaseous stars and vast planets and people- _so many people_ \- he has to save.

 

Tony is not a man of romance and fated love etched into his skin in the form of a night sky across his back. He doesn't get that and he never expected to.

 

_Sorry to disappoint you, Mom. Seems all I'm ever good for is disappointing people._

 

He thinks about Pepper and Happy and the god kids he knows he most likely won't live to see.

 

_Tell them stories of their rad Uncle Tony for me._

 

He thinks of Peter Parker, sweet Peter, who crumbles to dust into his arms, an apology on his lips.

 

_Don't be sorry like you disappointed me, Pete. You could never disappoint me._

 

He thinks of Strange, who promised to leave him for dead if it ever came down to it.

 

_Damn it, Stephen, I was really counting on you to keep that promise._

 

He thinks of DUM-E and the bots, of FRIDAY and JARVIS and, even, Vision.

 

_You were good, babies. I’m so glad I made something good._

 

He thinks of Rhodey, paralysed yet stronger than ever.

 

_Take care of the world for me, Honeybear._

 

Tony holds his shaking arm to his lips, remnants of Peter sticking to his fingers and he apologizes a thousand times over for his multitude of sins.

 

He doesn't think of Quill. Not because he doesn't forgive him, but because Tony never spared much thought to his soulmate before, why start now? He was going to get them all back, you can be sure of that, but Tony is a man of metal, of what his hands can touch and make better. The marks on his back ache at the feeling of their missing other half. His soul’s in mourning but he doesn't even feel it.

 

Tony takes the constellations on his back, and everything they stand for, as exactly what they are.

 

Conceptual, intangible.

 

He’s not a man of fanciful notions like star-crossed romance and a love that has waited years and spanned the galaxy to be found. Tony sees the marks on his back as expectations to live up to. He owes it to Quill and his Gamora, to Peter, and all the lost, to get them back. No matter the cost.

 

Anthony Stark has been ready to die for a while.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

The Soul Stone thinks his half of a soul is more than worth half of the Universe’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated, otherwise you can find me [here](https://starkcontrasts.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
> Also I realized Archive didn't save any of my strike-throughs and there's a sizable chunk of them in a specific portion of this(as well as a few scattered here and there through the rest) so don't be alarmed bc no they were not there before but they were definitely meant to be


End file.
